Save me San Francisco~Day 1

It’s funny how cities have a way of capturing ideals and building them into the very architecture of their essence and projecting them onto the make-up of its people. 

I had always held California as a place in my mind that carried a peace and freshness that had been suffocated in the smog of New York and in my case the small towns of the midwest. 

When the reality of my escape to the sea was finally in flight, I still didn’t know where to cast my hopes. As I read an old article from National Geographic, exploring the history of the San Francisco Bay, I wondered if a treasure of a city could really exist. 

We walked out of the baggage claim and the air was different. A captivating breeze that makes you want to go fight the current of whatever it is facing you that day.

Small houses with pastel colors lined the hilly streets as the train passed by. I knew right then that this was going to be one of those places that would not take much settling for me. Even though we had never officially met, its presence had flooded my head since I could remember. 

The hostel where we were going to stay 
is just what I had imagined a college dorm would be like when I was younger. The locals themselves seemed to be predominantly young. I tried to separate myself from the scene, like I had done in other cities, by looking into the faces of obscure strangers. The trouble was that a lot of them were young like me and seemed familiar. 

In my room the city surrounds me and instead of sirens I hear laughter. Maybe this place was blessed with the peace of St. Francis, or am I just fooled by its classic sheen?